


Snow Falling

by sister_wolf



Category: Hard Core Logo (1996)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-12-04
Updated: 2003-12-04
Packaged: 2017-10-12 09:51:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/123594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sister_wolf/pseuds/sister_wolf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Snow falling isn't silent, out here in the middle of nowhere.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Snow Falling

Snow falling isn't silent, out here in the middle of nowhere, in the empty spaces between Deadmonton and Winterpeg. Between past and present, Billy thinks, then immediately throws the thought away-- too fucking poetical for this bullshit. Three am, smoking a cigarette by the side of the road, waiting, leaning against the rear bumper of the van. Up by the front of the van, backlit by its headlights, Joe and Pipe are fighting about something or other. Billy doesn't know what and quite frankly he doesn't care.

John's passed out in the back of the van. He'd had a bad day-- flinching at things no one else can see, talking to the walls, babbling whacked-out paranoid crap. Joe gave him something-- Billy doesn't really want to know what, because the possibilities are mostly bad-- and John finally just collapsed. They'd made sure he was breathing and rolled him onto his side in case he puked, but that was about as much as they could do. God damn it, fucking Joe with his fucking stash. One of these days Billy is just going to flush it down the goddamned toilet.

He's just standing and smoking now, waiting, practicing his zen. Zen is a lot easier to reach when you're half-asleep and freezing to death. Or maybe that's the hypothermia talking. Whatever.

The snow makes a sort of hissing sound as it hits the layer of snow already on the ground. It's kind of cool, in a way-too-fucking-cold-out-here way. Billy's a city kid, born and bred, and the big empty sky out here makes him feel vaguely like he's about to fall off the edge of the world. Nothing out there, nothing to hold onto. Just Billy, falling away, just the faint glowing spark of his cigarette spinning out into the void.

"Hey, asshole." The words are accompanied by a harsh shove against his shoulder.

Billy blinks open his eyes, surprised to discover they'd been closed. His cigarette's gone-- must have fallen from his mouth when he fell asleep-- and his feet are completely numb. "What?" His voice is rusty and there's a nasty tickle at the back of his throat. Great, another fucking cold.

"The hell are you trying to do, freeze yourself to death? You should have stayed in the fucking van. Dink." Joe's scowling, but he looks a little worried under the pissy. He grabs Billy's hands out of his jacket pockets, rubbing them between his. Joe's hands feel burning hot, thick strong fingers engulfing his long skinny ones. "No fucking gloves, you asshole. What the hell am I going to do for a guitarist when they have to amputate your goddamned hands?"

Billy coughs and tries to pull his hands away, but Joe holds on, bulldog stubborn. "I was waiting for you two motherfucking prima donnas to stop bitchfighting, that's what I was doing." His thoughts feel hazy, slow. Everything has a glow of unreality around it.

"Very nice, Billiam. You kiss your mother with that mouth?" Joe's grinning, the rare open smile that really only Billy can get out of him anymore. Billy loves that smile.

Without stopping to think, without even realizing he's about to do it, Billy leans forward and kisses Joe, right on his smile.

Everything's suddenly very still. Billy can hear his own harsh breathing and the hiss of snow falling. He leans back against the side of the van, watching Joe's expressionless face. He's not sure if Joe is breathing.

Joe closes his eyes and shakes his head, once, twice, then opens his eyes and stares grimly at him. Billy braces himself for the punch he knows is coming.

Joe glances forward to the front of the van, as if he's checking that no one is watching them. Then he leans forward quickly and brushes his lips against Billy's.

It's over in half a second, barely even a kiss. Joe draws away, frowning.

Billy's shaking. He shoves his hands back into his pockets, clenching them into fists.

Slowly, Joe leans back in. His lips move tentatively, cautiously feeling out this new territory, and then suddenly Billy's being pressed against the cold metal of the van and Joe's kissing him for real, hot mouth and tongue slanting against his, hand sliding up into the short hair at the back of his neck. Shivers chase through Billy's body. He moans into Joe's mouth, his hands sliding under Joe's unbuttoned wool coat and into the rips in his sweater. He's finally, finally warm.

The van door slams. Joe jerks away from Billy, eyes wide and startled.

"There you two fuckers are. It's fucking freezing out here, man, let's get the fucking van moving again." Pipe's acting normally, bitching and moaning-- he must not have seen anything.

Billy shoves his hands back into his pockets. Joe's face is impassive again, the blank look he perfected in Juvie. Billy can't read him at all.

"Come on, you assholes." Pipe starts back toward the front of the van. Billy follows him, head down and shoulders hunched. He's freezing again.

After a moment, he hears Joe's boots crunching through the snow behind him.


End file.
